He walked through the smoke and dust, and walked towards Soshyan with his shoulders lowered, as if he was marching against the bite of a blizzard.
A jet black cloak was fixed at the back of his neck by a bone buckle, and the huge skull and sharp teeth of a dead beast formed his right shoulder armor, which looked like a Tyranid.
Mazhar was not wearing a helmet, revealing a vicissitudes of appearance with crisscrossed ravines, like a weathered cliff, and a tuft of short gray-white hair on top of his head.
He has no beard, has high cheekbones, and the tattoo on his chin is like an open skull jaw. His iron-gray eyes are shining like armor, exuding an intimidating aura.
His warriors were equally wild, their weapons and armor studded with bones torn from corpses.
These soul-like warriors follow closely behind the leader, like a flock of birds flying on the air flow brought by the head geese. Many people are not even sure whether the gods of death wearing plastic steel armor will stop.
But in any case, this naked provocation made all the Astral Knights angry.
Later, Soshyan's calm voice reached every soldier's ears.
"Hold on, this is just a bluff, that's all."
As he said, the reapers stopped and surrounded them in a semicircle.
"Leader of the Astral Knights Chapter, Soshyan Alexey."
Magyar shouted, his voice loud and stern, like that of a ruthless predator.
"My name is Magyar, Chapter Master of the Ascetic Chapter, Lord of the Temple of Death."
The next second, his scythe fell with a crash.
Soshyan also drew his sword out of its sheath at the same time, faster than most people's naked eyes could capture, as if his cloak was curling like a cloud.
Mazar greeted him with a giant scythe.
Amidst the clash of gold and iron, a shock wave shot out from around the two of them, rolling up a cloud of ashes mixed with dust.
Seeing the Chapter Master being attacked, the Astral Knights all made moves to take action, but Thor stopped them.
The warriors of the Ascetic Chapter remained indifferent, as if they were used to such scenes.
"Lord Magyar, is this how you treat yourself as a guest?"
Soshyan hissed, repelling the attack again.
"This is the etiquette of a warrior."
Mazhar grunted and blocked the close-range sword.
Although holding such a heavy ruthless weapon, his movements are no slower than Soshyan's, and every attack is very solid, close and steady.
"If that earns your respect."
Soshyan laughed and swung his sword deftly again.
Confronting a Chapter Master was a challenge he had long sought, and the battles he had fought in the past were nothing compared to them.
While he was training swordsmanship with Thor, he always longed for an opponent who could hone his skills.
Soshiyang let out a low roar, lunged in close, spun sharply with one foot, and the Holy Flame sword suddenly pierced Mazar's abdomen.
But just before he was about to succeed, the giant scythe turned sideways at a tricky angle to deliver the attack.
The two weapons created a string of sparks as they collided and dragged.
"too slow."
Mazhar mocked, then he clenched the war scythe with both hands and swung it at an extremely fast speed.
Knowing that the other party was getting serious, Soshiyang also responded with 120% of his attention.
From the perspective of mortals, the fierce battle between the two Chapter Masters could only see frost blades flying and thunderbolts hidden among them, but they could not get a glimpse of the true appearance.
Every blow of Lord Magyar had the potential to split mountains and seas, but Soshyan was like a surfer on the waves, walking calmly in the stormy waves with elegant "dance steps".
This is the "sword dance" developed by the swordsmen of the Royal Court 10,000 years ago, and only a few people have mastered it so far.
Soshiyang's learning time is still short, and in Thor's opinion, he can't even perform one-tenth of the sword dance.
But it is more than enough to deal with such an offensive.
The key to sword dance is to bring the opponent into your own rhythm, with the sword tip as the center of the circle, and constantly drag the opponent's attack with a semicircular movement trajectory, always keeping the opponent under the threat of your sword tip.
"Young man, you are good at swordsmanship. Who taught you that?"
Although he has been led by Soshyan, Mazhar did not seem worried, still breathing rhythmically, and maintaining a strong desire to attack.
This battle seems to be quickly turning into an endurance race.
"Our Chapter Instructor."
Soshiyang whispered, wielding the Holy Flame, and struck out with a fatal sweep.
Magyar deflected the blow, his heavy boots sinking about half an inch into the ground.
After missing a hit, Soshyan immediately stopped his hand and launched a series of rapid sword attacks while moving in a semicircular trajectory.
The Shengyan Sword once grazed Mazar's thick shoulder armor, causing him to stagger.
As time went by, Soshyan's sword edge became more and more violent, and the sword body made a jingling sound from the giant scythe.
"Then I'll teach you now."
The legendary hero of the empire, after letting out a dull laugh, began to cheer up and approached Soshyan with steady efficiency.
He strode closer, planted his feet, and continued to unleash extremely destructive attacks.
When the two weapons collided and rebounded, only the afterimages were distorted, and sparks burst out from both blades and flickered in the air. Every movement declared the majesty of the angel.
Soshyan was surprised to find that his dance steps were ruined, as if a barbarian suddenly broke into the banquet.
Wild and ferocious attacks quickly tore apart the false mask of civilization.
“Fancy techniques can be used, but don’t ignore our own strength!”
Mazar quickened his pace, and the scythe fell like thunder.
Soshyan withstood the blow, and the tip of the sickle was only a few inches away from his head.
"Been taught a lesson."
After saying that, he turned around and circled Mazhar in a circle, making it almost impossible to notice how he maintained his balance.
When they collided again, the crash was deafening.
The top leaders of the two Chapters fought against each other, using every attack with all their might.
Before they knew it, they had been fighting for half an hour.
Soshyan continued to fight, but he needed space to use his speed. He had to break free, take the initiative of the battle into his own hands, and break away from Mazar's suffocating entanglement.
Then, he summoned all his strength, slammed the scythe, and distanced himself.
On the floor cast by the shadow of Mazar holding the huge scythe high, the broken cloak resembled the terrifying god of death in human mythology.
Soshyan stood there, breathing heavily, taking a stance, waiting for the enemy to move.
There was only one chance, one perfect chance to get around the scythe at the precise angle.
It has to be flawless, if not there is no turning back.
But to everyone's surprise, Mazhar stopped moving.
He put down the scythe, and a faint cough came from inside the gaiter, which Soshyan soon realized was laughter.
"That's enough, that's enough."
